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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804585">like a veil before my eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakspots/pseuds/weakspots'>weakspots</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>camboy!verse ♡ [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Barebacking, Bottom Shane Madej, Breathplay, Camboy! Shane, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Gender Non-Conforming Shane Madej, Light Dom/sub, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:49:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakspots/pseuds/weakspots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He  doesn’t notice his hand having made its way down to squeeze his dick through his pants until Shane grabs him by the wrist, hard. “No,” he says. </p><p>Just like that. No. </p><p>And Shane may be the one who likes getting fucked facedown, but Ryan’s his bitch regardless.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>camboy!verse ♡ [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1212942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>like a veil before my eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>whoops!! hey boy reached 1000 kudos the other day and my hand slipped. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Shane had told him about a post-stream movie night, Ryan had expected one of the classics — some good ol’ Hitchcock or Coppola, or maybe one of the stupid action flicks they’d dissect while watching, pointing out plot holes and bad acting while still having the time of their lives, their popcorn-sticky fingers intertwined.</p><p>Whatever he assumed was waiting for him, it certainly wasn’t… this.  </p><p>There’s an empty bed on the TV screen. Light blue sheets, pillows arranged somewhat carefully in the background. Music is playing, poor audio quality making the beat sound tinny. It might be Britney.</p><p>Ryan had seen Shane open the file simply titled Test_10.mov in a folder on his desktop called <em> old shit, </em>and he had thought nothing of it. </p><p>He’s thinking a lot, now. “What is—  what’s—?”</p><p>“Shush. Just… watch.”</p><p>If Ryan didn’t know him as well as he does, aware that there is barely anything that could push him to the brink of nervousness, he would think that Shane looks mildly flustered next to him. </p><p>The camera quality on screen is… not what Ryan’s used to, to say the least. Definitely not comparable to the HD that allowed him to see every single freckle on Shane’s back when he was reverse-cowgirling something during his stream earlier. </p><p>It’s not<em> awful, </em>though, doesn’t grant him the ignorance of pretending he doesn’t recognize the person who comes into view and sits down on the bed, wringing their hands together in their lap much like Shane next to him is.</p><p>He knows who it is before his face is on screen, of course, but it still feels like someone’s held a stun-gun to his neck when it comes into view. </p><p>It’s Shane. It’s very much Shane. He’s wearing a faded, black shirt at least two sizes too big, the hem almost slipping off one of his skinny shoulders, his clavicle visible, and the small smile on his face is anything but the confident, cocky one Ryan’s used to. And he looks— young.</p><p>That’s the only adjective Ryan can think of.</p><p>Cute, of course, and pretty. Nervous, for sure, but mostly— </p><p>Yes, young.</p><p>“Got my old laptop running again,” his Shane says from somewhere far away while the other Shane, the one on screen, the one Ryan is staring at, scrambles to find a comfortable position and then pulls his shirt over his head, “found some stuff I thought I’d lost.”</p><p>Ryan swallows. “Uh.”</p><p>“Thought we could, you know. Thought we could watch it. You okay with that?” A hand on his thigh. Pink nail polish, chipping off at the edges already. They have a video to film for work tomorrow so he’ll remove it in the morning and Ryan will mourn it all day.</p><p>“I— Yeah. I do want that. I just—“ </p><p>Shane on screen is wearing faded, navy boxers, by far the most mundane thing Ryan’s ever seen him in on camera, and still, looking at it makes Ryan so dizzy he would draw a blank if anyone asked him to tell them his full name right now. </p><p>“You used to show your face?”</p><p>“Just for practice. I made these a couple days before I ever started seriously camming. To get the juices flowing, or—“</p><p>Shane on screen runs a hand over his dick through his <em> almost- </em>see through underwear, squeezes himself and lets out a little gasp, and Ryan feels like he’s about to watch a snuff film, only the thing being murdered is himself, or at least his sanity — every last shred of it being vivisected for a couple minutes of fun. </p><p>“—or just to see.”</p><p>The timidness is much like Shane likes to do for show in his streams and videos now, except it’s so, so real, the tension in what must be his dorm room so vivid the air around him must’ve been thick with it.</p><p>He peels his boxers off, eyes darting to the side like he’s, fuck, <em> ashamed </em> of himself. If the video quality was as good as Shane’s is now, Ryan would probably be able to see the razor burn between his legs where he must have shaved bare himself right before filming this. Pink disposable razor, maybe. Probably blushed and stammered when he bought it. </p><p>Ryan bites his lip so hard he tastes copper, and he doesn’t notice his hand having made its way down to squeeze his dick through his pants until Shane grabs him by the wrist, hard. “No,” he says. </p><p>Just like that. </p><p>No. </p><p>And Shane may be the one who likes getting fucked facedown, but Ryan’s his bitch regardless.</p><p>So he moves his hand aside, instead turns to look at Shane — for reassurance, maybe, or just to give his eyes some rest from what’s happening on screen, but Shane shakes his head. “Don’t look at me,” he says, voice so stern and serious it makes Ryan shiver, “look at him.”</p><p>So he does. His Shane has been sporting a bit of stubble lately, more out of laziness than out of fashion, but the one on screen is entirely smooth faced, and his now so skilled hands look shaky in the video when he raises them to his mouth, wets two of his fingers. Ryan feels <em> impure </em> gawking at him, as if this is something he shouldn’t be seeing. But also <em> exactly that </em> turns him on further, all those dirty-bad-wrong feelings making his skin crawl, his fingers dig into the couch, his dick a little harder.</p><p>Knowing he’s the only one besides Shane who has ever seen this, knowing he is hopefully going to stay the only one… that’s a pretty good feeling, too. He’s not stupid, he knows Shane’s mostly doing this to mess with him a little, hitting all his weak spots, but there’s a lot of trust involved here, too. Ryan won’t take it for granted.</p><p>On screen, Shane spreads his legs, gets a hand around his half-hard dick, and Ryan gets lost staring at his mouth of all things, distracted by how pink and cute it looks while he touches himself. </p><p>It probably says something about him that he’s so fixated on his face, the shy smile and the blush across his cheeks, that he downright mourns it when Shane turns around and gets on his knees. It probably says even more that the little gasp Shane makes when he gets a finger inside himself — a sound like he can’t believe he’s doing this on camera for the world to see — stirs Ryan’s heart more than it does his dick. </p><p>The Shane he knows doesn’t even bother starting with just one finger anymore unless he does it to tease his audience or Ryan or both; loves the stretch, the fullness of two or three on the first go. The little one on screen still has a ways to go, it seems. </p><p>He slightly ruins the illusion by getting up in the middle of fingering himself, pulling up his underwear hastily and disappearing, and his Shane giggles. “I had to get a glass of water,” he explains, and it’s so endearing Ryan lets himself laugh, too. </p><p>“You okay?” Shane says during the downtime, and Ryan nods. </p><p>“It’s a lot.”</p><p>“But not too much?”</p><p>He shakes his head, and Shane smirks. He pulls Ryan’s zipper open as soon as his younger self is back on screen, shimmies Ryan’s jeans and underwear down his thighs at the same time that Shane on screen discards his boxers again. </p><p>It’s better like this, Ryan supposes. He’s more than happy to let Shane take the lead here — he does, often, feel like Shane knows him better than he knows himself, so it’s only natural he should let Shane take the lead during this particular viewing experience. </p><p>“Spit,” Shane says, quietly but with an edge to it, like there’s a silent <em> and I’m only going to say this once </em>attached to it. And so Ryan obliges, though his throat is dry.</p><p>Finally, some relief then — Shane wraps his skilled, slick hand around him the exact second the one on screen, having turned around now, gets two fingers inside himself with a soft whine and a twitch of his dick, and Ryan feels lightheaded. He thinks, feverishly, about those solar eclipse filters, and how even one of those wouldn’t keep this image from burning its way straight onto his retinas. </p><p>It’s definitely not the first time Shane on screen (or someone else, Ryan thinks, and the spike of jealousy he feels is surprisingly sharp) is touching himself like this, but it must be the first time he’s doing it on camera, and Ryan can’t imagine how it must have felt — he barely has any clue of how it feels for Shane <em> now, </em>the exposedness and vulnerability of it.</p><p>His thoughts must transpire on his face, because Shane leans in, and he starts talking. “I was so nervous,” he says, softly, and then he reaches for the remote with his left hand to dial up the sound a little when his technicolor version starts fingering himself in earnest, noisy with it.</p><p>“Thought I’d never be able to get it up on camera, if I’m being honest, but as you can see,” and Ryan straight up <em> whimpers </em>when Shane produces one of those pretty, sleek glass dildos from somewhere off screen, “I never really had a problem with that.”</p><p>Ryan knows Shane doesn’t want him to get off like this — his movements are slow, deliberate, touching Ryan just for the sake of touching him rather than getting into any sort of rhythm, and when his on-screen version finally teases around his hole with the slim, round end of the toy, he lets go of his dick entirely.</p><p>“I blew half a week’s paycheck on that,” he says, voice soft and fingers now busy stroking along the inside of Ryan’s thigh somewhat tenderly, “and it was so, so worth it.”</p><p>Ryan can see that it was. He’s so <em> noisy </em> when it breaches him<em>, </em> and Ryan knows, to a T, what his face must have looked like in that moment, the exact slope of his furrowed brows, the precise shape of his open mouth when he pushes it in an inch or two. Its size is nothing compared to what he can take without even blinking now, but it looks big to Ryan and must <em> feel </em> big to Shane, and he’s not surprised how long it takes for him to push the entire thing inside of himself. When he finally, finally does, there’s not a single part of Ryan’s body that doesn’t ache for him.</p><p>For Shane next to him, yes, but there’s something dark and dirty deep inside him that’s wishing there was a way to touch the one on screen, to kiss that nervousness off his trembling lips and open him up for his dick with experienced fingers, show him the way. He feels gross. He feels <em> elated. </em></p><p>He knows what Shane sounds like when he gets close, and his dick gives a desperate twitch when he gasps in that cute little way of his after fucking himself open for a while. He pulls out the toy and turns around just in time to capture the money shot on camera, and it’s the mere promise of <em> more </em> that keeps him from coming untouched watching Shane do the same, letting out a moan Ryan wishes he was making right against his lips instead.</p><p>Shane’s got cum all over his chest and Shane’s got his nails biting into Ryan’s thigh and Ryan is so obsessed with both of them it physically hurts.</p><p>“Bed,” Shane says, “c’mon.”</p><p>Ryan won’t argue with that, <em> can’t </em>argue with it, either way.</p><p>— 💘 —</p><p>Shane’s a teaser when he’s on his knees — or always, really — but tonight is not the night for that.</p><p>He merely winks at Ryan before he gets his lips around him, taking him all the way down, vocal with it. Ryan’s not convinced the noise he’s making is just for show — Shane’s done his fair share of waiting tonight as well, and he seems just as desperate as Ryan does. They both moan when he licks down the underside of Ryan’s cock, going down to pop his balls into his mouth until Ryan’s reduced to a panting mess, and he winds his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Please, <em> baby, </em>I’m gonna—“ </p><p>Shane stops at once, looks up at him, his hair all over the place and his lips Ryan’s favorite color. He’s beautiful. “You’re not,” he says, like it’s etched in stone, swirls his tongue around the head of Ryan’s dick, once, twice, never breaking eye contact like he’s actively trying to drive Ryan insane, “because you’re gonna fuck me.”</p><p>And Ryan’s on fire, <em> knows </em>that under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t last for one more minute — but it’s Shane, his forever exception, his dream girl, the love of his fucking life, and Ryan will never forgive himself if he comes before getting inside of him.</p><p>Neither would Shane, probably. </p><p>Ryan’s not entirely sure what to call it, this dynamic they get into sometimes where Shane’s the driving force and Ryan’s being dragged along — all while still enjoying the metaphorical and sometimes non-metaphorical ride immensely, mind you. All he knows is that every time it happens, he has the smallest desire not to listen to him, just to see what will happen, to be a brat just for the fuck of it. It’s hard though, the mere idea of not doing what Shane needs, and he’s not sure he’s at the point of pure disobedience yet.</p><p>It’s fine. They’ve got forever to figure that out. </p><p>Shane pulls his shirt over his head, and all of Ryan’s thoughts dissolve into nothing when he gets rid of his jeans as well, making a show out of it despite getting tangled in them for a second. </p><p>He’s wearing those skanky little lace panties Ryan’s obsessed with, baby pink ones he got him for Valentine’s day along with a matching bottle of Rosé and something 9 inches and threatening to anyone but Ryan. </p><p>There’s no need to take them off, given that they’re assless (and really, ordering them was the best idea Ryan’s ever had right after subscribing to a certain account on a certain camsite) and so Shane just climbs into his lap once he’s practically lathered Ryan’s entire hand with lube, smiling. “Please,” he says, “Ryan.”</p><p>“Please what?”</p><p>Two can play at this game.</p><p>Shane's smile grows an inch, and he uses the cutesy voice that always fucks Ryan up when he says, “Put your fingers in me, <em> please?” </em></p><p>On any other day, he would make him beg for it a little, but his dick is too hard and his heart too soft for that right now. He moves his fingers straight to where Shane wants them, presses two against his hole and, when Shane closes his eyes and smiles, gets them inside of him, slow and steady.</p><p>As tight as he may be, it doesn’t take long for Shane to adjust, never does, and he moves back against them, “More? Please?”</p><p>Ryan used to think he may not be enough for Shane, given who Shane is and what he does, and he still gets doubts every once in a while — but he’s started to realize that asking Ryan for more doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s lacking something and rather that Shane can’t get enough of him. </p><p>Shane leans in when Ryan withdraws two and comes back with three fingers, and he nips at Ryan’s lip when he gets them inside of him. Ryan doesn’t waste too much time opening him up like this, does it just enough so he knows he won’t hurt him. Even if that’s maybe what Shane wants.</p><p>Shane seeks eye contact when Ryan slicks himself up for him, and he raises a brow when Ryan playfully slaps his own thigh as a sort of invitation, says, “C’mere, princess.”</p><p>And he does.</p><p>They both groan when Shane lowers himself onto his dick, and Ryan opens blissfully closed eyes to see Shane smiling at him when he starts moving, Ryan’s hands gripping his hips. He’s sure he’ll leave permanent marks there one day, indents formed the way rivers carve valleys. </p><p>It’s only fair, given that Shane’s already left the same kind of deep marks all over his heart.</p><p>Winded up from how they spent the rest of their evening, it doesn’t take long for Ryan to get close and pull Shane closer, bury his face in rose-scented hair and huff out a <em> baby girl </em>like a love confession, and he’s momentarily confused when Shane creates distance between them again.</p><p>“Hey, wanna know a secret?”</p><p>He thinks that if Shane told him now, right now — with his ass clenched around Ryan’s dick and his fist clenched around his heart — that he’d caved a man’s head in, Ryan would help him dispose of the body no questions asked. Hell, he’d offer himself up next if Shane wanted. </p><p>He nods, frantic. Shane gives him his big girl smile. </p><p>He splays his palm right across the erratic beating in Ryan’s chest, then moves it upwards after a second or two, stills his hand where Ryan’s pulse is throbbing in his neck. He doesn’t do more than that. Ryan wishes he would, but he’s not able to find the words, or any words at all. “This okay?”</p><p>His voice is almost shy, having never ventured here before, and Ryan nods again. Shane squeezes, just a little, barely noticeable. But Ryan, oh, he does feel it all over. </p><p>He squirms, stutters out a weak, “W-what’s the secret?”</p><p>Shane’s smile grows a fraction of an inch, undoubtedly fueled by the desperation radiating from Ryan, and his slim fingers on Ryan’s throat feel like a lifeline when he works himself up and down on his dick and says, ”You really wanna know?”</p><p>Ryan tightens his grip on Shane’s hips, fucks into him harder, which he hopes is approval enough, and Shane moans, hand still pressing down ever-so-slightly on Ryan’s neck. Ryan knows this isn’t the safe way to choke someone and he knows that Shane knows that as well and he knows he could tap out at any second and what he knows best is that he’d rather <em> die </em>than do that. </p><p>He never thought he needed anything this much.</p><p>Shane’s smile feels like a dagger straight through his ribcage when he says, every single word its own stab wound, “You know, I was a virgin when I made that video.”</p><p>And Ryan was close either way but he’s still surprised by how he just fucking <em> comes, </em>right the second the words have left Shane’s mouth. He tightens his grip on Shane’s hips just as Shane actually tightens the one around his throat, robbing him of air and whatever was left of his composure alike. </p><p>It feels like he’s taking the first breath of his <em> life </em>when Shane lets go of him, and he desperately sucks in air when he comes down from what is a better high than any drug could ever grant him. </p><p>He doesn’t wait for the comedown, knows it may take forever, and so he just hauls Shane onto his back and Shane smiles, minx-like, spreads his slim, shaven legs when Ryan gets between them. </p><p>He doesn’t bother taking them off, just presses a kiss to where his underwear is dampened already. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, and Shane squirms, winds his long fingers through Ryan’s hair when Ryan licks at him through the lace, mouths at the head of his dick. </p><p>It usually — and deliberately — takes longer for him to get off like this but he’s amped up and close from being fucked already, and Ryan just smiles when his moans get a little more desperate, when he spreads his legs wider and digs impatient fingernails into Ryan’s scalp. </p><p>It’s only then that Ryan frees Shane’s dick from its confines and takes the head into his mouth. He’s gotten better at this, being able to take him all the way down his throat without gagging now. </p><p>Most of the time at least. He’ll never be as skilled as Shane, but Shane probably doesn’t even want him to.</p><p>Shane <em> sighs </em>Ryan’s name when he comes, and Ryan drinks him down like honey.</p><p>— 💘 —</p><p>Ryan’s always thought that Shane was prettiest with a flush spread across his face. He brushes his messy hair out of his forehead, and Shane leans in to kiss him, spent.</p><p>“I’m ready to sleep for a week. That was…”</p><p>Shane nods, giggles. “Yeah. I know.”</p><p>“Was there a special occasion?”</p><p>Shane nods, a pleased smile on his face, and when Ryan raises a brow, expecting him to elaborate, it grows a little. “Happy 69 days,” he says.</p><p>Ryan cackles, pulls him closer so they’re chest to chest, heart to heart.</p><p>“You’re unbelievable.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Shane agrees, tucks himself close against Ryan’s side and kisses his shoulder, “I know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>title from pencil skirt by pulp.<br/>thank you for reading!! let me know what ya think!! ✨</p></blockquote></div></div>
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